


Battlefield

by Yeoyou



Series: Battlefield [1]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - World War I, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:13:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6702433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yeoyou/pseuds/Yeoyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aristocrat Hal Emmerich and ex-convict David Coluber meet in the British trenches during World War I.</p><p>NOTE: relocated from my general Tumblr prompt collection</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kawaiibooker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kawaiibooker/gifts), [thelonebamf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonebamf/gifts).



The constant drip of rain. Mud everywhere. No dry patch on his clothes to wipe his hands. He doesn’t even notice the rats anymore. And there’s the stench. Of gunpowder. Of rotten food infested with maggots. Of unwashed bodies, sweating, pissing, bleeding. Dying.  

Hal wishes he could sleep. Even if he always wakes up screaming from the dreams.

His men talk about home. The girls they kissed before they left England. The mothers they left weeping. They talk about free days spent in the countryside. He’s almost forgotten what green looks like. He wishes he could forget why he left his father’s home.

He never tells anyone about the last woman he kissed. His men think that there probably never was one. They believe not even his wealth could smooth over his awkwardness. Some think he might be a poof. They don’t know anything of his former lover, Julie, who was also his stepmother, and he’ll sooner die than tell them. Which isn’t very far fetched in a world where gunfire is more regular than rain.

Naive idealism and guilt are a bad mixture for making life changing decisions. He’d believed the propaganda. “We’ll be home by Christmas”, “Your Country Needs You”, “Isn’t This Worth Fighting For?”. They had all thought this would be a quick victory, ideas of heroic battles deeple entrenched in the national mentality. He had wanted to be heroic, had hoped it would maybe wash away the guilt, if he came back not the boy he had been but a man.  

But there is no glory on the battle field. There is only meaningless, pointless death. Thousands of men killed over nothing. For land that is as dead as they will soon be. Barren and brown. They claim to protect their beautiful island and wreck the Earth in front of them.

War isn’t the beautiful, poetic thing described in the histories he’s read, in the stories he’s heard.There is nothing poetic about scrambling around in the dark to repair the damage of today’s attack by the Germans. There is nothing glorious about severed limbs and the screams of dying men.  

Hal doesn’t know what’s worse. The seemingly endless barrage of bullets, so loud it halts every thought in your brain, flooding your every nerve and washing away time and meaning. Or the waiting. He’d never thought boredom could be so deadly.  

It all seems so stupid. He’s forgotten why he fights and why he should care either way who wins. Nations are just a concept. People. That’s what counts. And they are all people. He and his men and the Germans only a short distance away. They’re all ankle deep in the same muck. It’s only a coincidence at birth that decided on which side he now stands.

He doesn’t say it, of course. Keeps silent and tries to do what he can. He’s not made for war. Never even hurt anyone before he came here. Well, not physically anyway. Killing doesn’t come easy and all he wishes is that he’d stayed at Oxford. In the company of dusty books, walking through green parks and under high arches, surrounded by the beauty of the past. He’s sure it was pretty bad there too but he doesn’t have to smell it, doesn’t have to hear it, if he just reads about it on a page.

He’s not made for war and yet they made him an officer. Because his father belongs to the gentry and they assumed that a learned man would know more about strategy and battle tactics. It’s nonsense. But he tries.

And he’s not completely alone. There’s Coluber*. David Coluber who’d been in prison for manslaughter when they offered him freedom if he fought for England. He is a very unlikely friend but they’re both outsiders in a group that mainly consists of working class men, former butchers and miners and farm hands. Coluber comes from a middle class family. And despite his muscles and intimidating demeanor, he’s neither stupid nor cruel. He killed a man saving someone else. Hal’s read his file and doesn’t think it’s fair. But Coluber never complains. Not about his time in prison. Not about this hell.

They play chess when there’s nothing else to do. Coluber carved the pieces from leftover scraps of wood. The others laugh at them but Hal is more grateful about this simple thing than he could ever express with words. He’ll lose himself in the game, forgets the stench in the trenches, forgets the improvised walls so high that all they can see of the world is a thin strip of sky. He forgets the noise and the silence. He forgets Death.

Coluber is good at chess. And he’s good with tactics and strategies. Just like Hal, he sees no sense in herding men across the No-Man’s Land in great waves, hoping to run over the German defenses only to be mowed down by gunfire. Because no matter how many men they throw at the enemy, the frontline hasn’t changed all that much. It’s stable enough to include it in maps.  

No, they both see that they won’t win that way. Coluber is Hal’s secret weapon. A single man slipping out undetected in the dark, crawling across bleeding Earth unseen to sabotage guns and walls. To give them at least a fighting chance when the orders for the next advance comes. 

He’s good at it. Damn good. And yet Hal wishes he wouldn’t have to send him. Those hours of waiting are the worst, while he listens into the dark, knowing full well that he’ll never hear him coming back. For such a large man, Coluber can move without a sound.

Privacy is a foreign concept on the front line. They’re smushed  together almost constantly. Yet before finding Coluber, Hal had felt alone. Lost and lonely in a cruel, ashen world, trying his best that was never enough. He’s read about it, the idea of the “band of brothers”, how soldiers bond through their hardships, become real “brothers in arms”. It’s bullshit. At least here it is. When the Germans aren’t fraying their nerves, they do a pretty good job with that themselves. All they have in common are a faceless enemy and lice.

But Coluber, David, is different. Hal would be ready in a heartbeat to call him brother. He would die for any of his men, because it’s what he believes in. But for David, he’d do it because he wouldn’t know how to live on without him.

It’s stupid. He knows that. He shouldn’t get too attached. It’s dangerous, with Death always sitting on their shoulders.

But although Hal is smart, he’s never been particularly clever. And so he waits while David sneaks out to do his thing, fist clenched around a surprisingly delicately carved piece of wood. And prays that his friend will return.

Because he’s the only one that still means anything.

Because, as it turns out, love can bloom even on a battle field.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * apparently _coluber_ means snake in Latin
> 
> The conditions in the trenches, especially in the British ones, were really bad. That much I remember from my classes. How exactly the officer’s situation was in comparison to the regular soldiers and how much they mixed…well that’s a bit fuzzy in my memory so I hope I didn’t get this too wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

It starts out as a private joke. "Did you know, that _coluber_ means snake in Latin?" An innocent remark. One that's supposed to distract from death and the dying around them. David only frowns and when the name sticks, he shrugs and doesn't say much. But Hal knows David doesn't like it and he feels sorry. Responsible. Even though he can't deny that it fits, when he watches David slither across the trench walls into the dark, to cause mayhem.

The enemy eventually catches on. They never see David but the results of his "visits" are hard to ignore. They try to send their own saboteurs but they lack the knack for this kind of work. Hal's men catch them, more often shoot them, and the Germans learn their lesson. They send no more. And David gets praised even louder.

David hates the pats on his back, the cheers for "Snake". He withdraws more and more and Hal can see the toll it takes. He just nods at David, when he comes back from a mission, leaves him alone for a while and then offers a game of chess if there's time. Silent support is all he can give.

David is good at killing. That doesn't mean he likes it.

It's ridiculous, really. Their government sent David to prison for killing a man in defence of another and then let him go again so he can kill more. If David wasn't a convict, he'd rise through the ranks in record time. But he can't and so Hal gets all the praise. Because he and his men are more effective than most in a war that seems ground to a standstill.

When Hal gets stationed elsewhere, he pulls all strings to make sure David comes with him. He hates to think what would happen to the man if he was left alone. Is pretty sure he knows. There is a part in him that accuses him of selfishness but Hal knows better. If he was sure that David would be better off without him, he'd leave in a second.

There are jokes about them. The aristocrat and his personal pet snake. Some are good natured. Some aren't. They ignore all of them. They're better together and that's all that counts.

When the war is over - apparently they won - and they're both, miraculously, still alive, they return to England. It's the end of November and the green they've been fighting for is nowhere to be seen. They could stay in town, get drunk on all the free shots people insist on shoving at them. But all they want is silence. And peace.

It's confusing, how little has changed when Hal returns home. The manor is still the same, the grounds are the same. But he isn't. It's what he wanted only he thought it would make things better. Not worse.

Seeing Julie again feels like drowning in icy rain. He's glad to see Emma but she's grown and a stranger he hardly recognises. His father's portrait dominates the hall. They've hung it up after his death and it haunts Hal's sleep. One more ghost. One more nightmare he can't escape. The war is over everywhere but in Hal's head.

It feels strange and Hal would never have believed it but he almost feels lost without the war. Without a cause. Without knowing what he has to do, whether he believes in it or likes it or not. He doesn't know what to do with himself. All the empty hours seem more daunting then the battlefield he left behind.

The only one who understands, the only one he can talk to is David. He didn't have a home to go back to and maybe a part of Hal is almost glad about that. Because it means he doesn't lose him. Because it means he's still there. Hal felt awkward when he offered the position as groundkeeper to David. Being his superior during the war is one thing. Being his employer is quite another. But David accepts almost immediately. Not that he has much experience but he loves nature and staying in the little cottage, alone, is far more appealing to him than living in the manor's service quarters.

The trenches watered down the differences between them. The rigid class system back home feels stifling.

Most people seem desperate to forget the war ever happened. They cling to their classes, while proclaiming modernity from the rooftops. Hal is invited to more parties than he can count. David never is.

Julie is frightened of the new groundkeeper. The ex-convict, the murderer, the soldier. It's almost funny how she can forget that Hal is two of those as well. But even though Hal has grown from a gangly teenager into a tall and slim man, he still retains much of his softness. Only the lines around his thin lips, and his eyes betray what he has seen. What he has done.

Julie and he try to pretend that nothing ever happened. They're polite if distant with each other. They both care about Emma. But Hal never feels at ease in his own home. Feels like he's playing a role that begins to suffocate him. He flees from the house more and more often, seeks refuge in the little cottage where the only thing he has to pretend is not feeling too much for David.

He's scared. And worried. That he'd drive David away. That David would feel disgusted and betrayed if he knew. Or worse, that he'd go along with it because he feels he must. Because he has nowhere else to go. Money and station draw an invisible line between them. They try to ignore it but it's always there. When they play chess. When they talk. When they walk silently through the wood.

He doesn't know why it happens on that particular day. Years after they've returned to England. There's no reason other than that Hal has kept the secret too long. But he tells David about his affair with Julie. The one thing he thought he'd never disclose to anyone. When the words finish falling from his lips and there is nothing but roaring silence, he realises that it's also a test. To see if David will run. If he'll turn from him.

The silence between them lasts as long as it takes for Hal to look David in the face. There's nothing there but a sad smile. And maybe something else. "I've killed a man before the war and you never judged me. And now you're afraid I will judge you?" David raises his hand and for a moment, Hal is sure that he'll touch his face. In the end, the familiar strong fingers only rest on his shoulder. And take the weight off of them that has dragged Hal down for so long.

It's the last thing he wants to do but Hal can't hold the tears back that stream down his face. He's ashamed but he doesn't turn away. Because he also feels free for maybe the first time since he's run away to the front.

Hal doesn't know who embraces whom first. Or whose lips kiss the other first after a dozen heartbeats. It doesn't matter.

Because, as it turns out, love can survive even a battlefield.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long... but without encouragement from my writing buddies (you know who you are ;D), it would have been even longer. Thanks for sticking with this. There will be more (which hopefully will not take me quite as long to write). Hope you like it. As always: constructive criticism welcome.

April 13, 1923

Dearest Emma,

 

as promised, here is the first of, hopefully, many letters. David and I have safely arrived in Calais. The weather was horrendous when we crossed the Channel, so I spent most of the time below decks, trying to keep the contents of my stomach where they belonged. David did not have such problems but he stayed with me nevertheless, on bucket guard. I don't know what I did to deserve this man!

Emma, you have no idea how good it feels to be able to be so open with you about my love for David. Rather, to be open about everything once again. I was terrified of confessing about Julie and me before we left! But David insisted that I should clear the air and of course he was right. He seems to be almost always right. I should have known that you would be smart enough to figure everything out on your own. I am nevertheless still deeply sorry about it. About it happening in the first place, about keeping this secret from you for so long ... I don't exactly feel that I am deserving of your forgiveness but it means more to me than I can say.

I hope you really will be all right left at the house with Julie. You know we would have stayed without hesitation if you had asked us. Without hesitation and without blame. David would have understood. But you are probably right. Julie likes to manipulate men but she doesn't have the same power over you. I had never considered it before you pointed it out but now it seems so obvious. The way she manipulated first my father and then me. The way she resents David not so much for where he comes from and for his past but because he is immune to her influence. And because she senses that David holds so much more of it over me than she ever had. I am glad that you are so astute in your observations, it gives me faith that you will hold your own well enough. And that you will be fine without me there. Not that I ever did that much to protect you in the first place. I am sorry that I haven't been the big brother that you deserve.

It pains me that we have separated just as we have found each other and have grown close again. But we have still letters and as long as I can hold a pen, I promise I will write to you. And no matter where we end up, I will always make sure that your letters can reach me!

David and I haven't decided yet, where we will go. There are so many places we want to see and visit. The world is so big but we have time, and freedom, and, luckily, money. I am grateful to father for that, at least.

It does feel strange to be back on the Continent. We haven't been here since the war and so much has changed and so much hasn't. The same is true for us, I guess. I'm sorry, reading this you would think I'm fifty and not 27! I will try to be a less boring brother. We will surely have many exciting adventures I can recount in the future. It's just that nothing much has happened yet. The car ride to Dover was pleasant enough, if a little wearisome. The hotel here is clean and the people are nice. It's a pretty little yellow building, tugged away in a side street. David and I both prefer the quiet. Maybe not the best prerequisite for travelling the globe? We will see, I suppose.

But I will be glad once we leave Europe. Too many memories. Furthermore, it is still entirely possible that we will encounter people who know me or of me. And who might have heard about David. So far, however, we have encountered no problems. We are just two strangers/tourists/good friends who want to explore the world. Nobody suspects anything else. I hope we can keep it that way. I confess I am a little anxious. I am excited about what is to come but I have always lacked David's calm. As he repeatedly tells me: I worry too much. So naturally I worry about what would happen to us if someone found out that we are more than just friends.

I am sorry, I shouldn't burden you with this. David already asked why I frown so much while writing to you! He sends his love, by the way. I think he is still reeling a little from that goodbye hug and  kiss you gave him when we left. He doesn't talk much about it but I know his family didn't provide the most loving environment and he only has brothers, no sister. And with all that has happened and everything, he is surely more than glad that you have accepted him into our family. As am I. More than I can say. Thank you for that, Emma.

We have to go and find a place to eat now. David is getting a little impatient and I think my stomach has actually grumbled at least twice while penning these few lines. But since there is not much else to say, I'll just leave with a promise to write more the next time. Take care of yourself.

  
Love, your brother Hal

 

* * *

 

  
May 10, 1923

Dearest Emma,

  
apparently your mother has been bothering my lawyer because she fears that I will squander the family fortune on my trip and leave the two of you penniless as well as homeless. You can assure her that no such thing will happen. I have arranged everything with Campbell and my bankers so that you will always be well provided for. I hope you don't think me capable of such a neglect as Julie fears.

One thing is true, I have altered my last will and testament before leaving England. In the event of my death, David will inherit a good portion of my fortune. He has no money to speak of and I could not leave him with nothing if anything happens to me. I am sure you understand. But enough will remain for you and Julie to continue living in appropriate comfort. The house will go to you since I know David cares nothing for it. Besides, it is your home and though we may not be blood-related, I do consider you as my successor to the family title. It is also rather unlikely that I will produce any heirs that could take that position from you. Father had many faults but I know he cared deeply about you and he did legally adopt you so you're an Emmerich and an Emmerich should always keep the manor.

I have also instituted Campbell as guardian of your fortune until you come of age, instead of Julie. He and I have spoken at length about my wishes and hopes for your future so I feel reassured that he will act in my and your best interest. I confess I do not place the same confidence in your mother. And since I do not believe in tying your inheritance down with a rigid set of instructions, I feel this is the better solution. Julie will continue to receive her monthly allowance so I hope she won't throw up too much of a fuss about it.

Well, now that you can be satisfied that your big brother won't leave you in rags, I think enough is said about legal matters.

Have you heard about the flooding of Calais earlier this month? I suppose it is lucky that it was the American Calais and not the French one. Otherwise we might have had to swim out of town! Rome is much drier, thankfully. David and I have have made the most of our stay here but it is time to move on. The Italian temperament doesn't really agree with either of us and while the city itself is beautiful and of course steeped in fascinating history, I think we've absorbed as much of it as we can for the moment. The political atmosphere grows more and more foul. To be quite honest: Mussolini and his Fascist party scare me. I will miss the food, I think, but I am confident that new exciting culinary and cultural experiences are waiting for us. Hopefully, in a healthier political climate. Besides, I think if we stayed any longer, there is also the serious danger that David will end up adopting every stray dog he meets. The man is a magnet for canines! He also seems to enjoy their company more than that of actual people but seeing how happy they make him, I cannot complain. Only the thought of leaving again, coupled with the serious inconveniences of travelling with approximately fifty dogs, ensures that David leaves them be for the moment. But should we return one day with four dozen dogs, you will be warned in advance. I can only imagine Julie's face at that! It would almost be worth it for that sight alone. I will leave you with that enjoyable image until the next letter.

  
Love, your brother Hal  
  
P.S.: Of course the Calais flood is nothing to joke about. From what I have read, the water has taken out four of their five bridges and the economic is sure to suffer severely for years to come, if it will ever recover at all.

 

* * *

 

 

September 6, 1924

Dearest Emma,

  
I was relieved to the hear that the parrot has arrived safely and healthily. I am even more delighted that you like him – should I say I am sorry that Julie doesn't like him? From what you have written, it seems you are rather successful in teaching him to speak. And “Big Boss” sounds like an appropriate name for him; he does like to hear himself talk, doesn't he? David and I had a good laugh about that name when I read him your letter. Just don't teach BB too many rude words or Julie will get a heart attack. I actually had to keep David from inventing colourful swear words just for your mother's benefit! I never knew the man had such a streak of humour in him.

I feel like I should apologise for teaching BB “I miss you, Emma”, I certainly didn't mean for him to say that all the time. Although it is true, I do miss you. I am just so grateful we can write letters to each other. David keeps teasing me because I get so excited whenever I receive one of your letters (or, sometimes, bundles of them that have been sent after us) but I cannot help it. Also, I do think it amuses him immensely so why should I stop? There is absolutely no reason so I refuse to be less excited about letters from my little sister – who is, admittedly, not that little anymore. By the way, this is in no way intended to be a kind of emotional blackmailing. I cherish your letters, yes, but I only want you to write to me if you want it! I just wanted to make that clear again. Maybe it is because of Julie that I am overly anxious not to inadvertently make people do things they do not want to. Or the war. In any case, I should probably just end this letter before I find myself entangled in an endless loop of “please write – but only if you want to” because I imagine that would get very boring for you. And you might not write back (but please do).

  
In love (and some confusion), your brother Hal

 

* * *

  
  
November 17, 1924

Dearest Emma,

  
you expressed an interest in how David and I agree on our travel plans in your last letter so I will try to satisfy your curiosity on that account. We have, unfortunately, rather different ideas of an ideal location. While we both prefer some quiet place to stay, I still crave civilisation. Both because of its comforts as well as its history and sights. I have always liked museums, ever since father took me to the British Museum when I was five. It was the most magical day of my childhood, I think, and maybe the best day I ever spent with my father. Whatever else may be true about him, he was very learned and was able to answer all my curious questions about the exhibits without trouble or impatience. It is therefore not surprising, I suppose, that my love for museums and cultural history has never abated.

David, on the other hand, prefers the wonders of nature. He is happiest with no other people around – myself, luckily, excluded – and can spend endless hours strolling around forests or sitting at some lake and staring into the distance, watching the water, the clouds, the gentle sway of meadow grass, ...

It is rather difficult, at times, to arrive at a compromise with two such wildly different natures involved, as you can imagine. Nevertheless, we manage well enough. Mostly, what we do is not to try too hard for a compromise but rather variation. We may stay in a city where I can look at architecture and visit museums and book shops to my heart's content. Once David cannot stand it any longer and his need for calm and nature grows too strong, we'll leave civilisation behind and travel to some remote spot where his soul can breathe. Of course eventually I will go a little crazy with nothing but nature to look at and so we will travel to another city. It may not be an ideal system but it works. Probably because the one thing neither of us can really part with, is the other. Being with David has certainly made me appreciate the marvels of nature more than I ever learned to as a boy. The war has something to do with it, too, of course. I don't think anybody can look at all that ravaged earth between the trenches and not appreciate even the smallest of flowers struggling for a touch of sunshine. In reverse, it does help to look at all that humanity has accomplished in order to not lose faith in the race completely. David has a touch of the misanthrope, as you might have gathered, and the political situation is troubling in most places we have been this year and a half. But most people we have met along the way have been kind and helpful. Humanity as such is surely deeply flawed, thre is a great capacity for cruelty. But also for love and kindness. For greatness beyond that of conquerers and tyrants.

I am sorry, you probably did not bargain on quite so much philosophy when you penned your innocent question but every now and then I think big brothers are entitled to some “wise words” to their younger siblings. So let us pretend they were wise, or something along those lines at least, so that I can be silly again in the next letter.

  
Love, always, your brother Hal

 

* * *

  
  
December 5, 1924

Dearest Emma,

  
I must confess to you: I felt very bad after reading your last letter. Who could have foreseen that the announcement of our newest family member, Little Boss the Crab, would coincide with David's and my seafood dinner? But of course I applaud your heroic rescue of LB from his culinary fate, even though Julie seems to be less delighted. What do you think, is it more because you ruined her dinner plans or because there is now an adopted crab living in one of the bathrooms?

It seems to me that I almost didn't have to leave home, there appear to be plenty adventures going on there. I suppose you have to do what you can to make your life less boring, stuck with Julie in the country. But I think Julie mentioned that the two of you might spend Christmas in the city?

David and I don't have particular plans for the holiday season. Something quiet, I think, that suits us both. There is a concert of Handel's “Messiah” that I would like to go to but I am not sure David is very fond of this kind of music. As I have found out, to my surprise, he is rather more interested in modern music, like jazz, than classical music! And because I know you will ask: No, unfortunately he doesn't dance.

  
Love, your brother Hal

 

* * *

  
  
June 3, 1925

Dearest Emma,

  
I hope this letter and the gift reach you in time for your birthday. David has spotted the volume in a wonderful old bookshop. You would have loved it there, every nook and cranny filled with leather bound folios and tomes, the smell of musty old paper in the air, dust motes dancing in the dim light filtered in through the aged glass of the small windows. Granted, it may not have been the healthiest place to stay in for long – my nose itched for quite a while after and we were both in serious need of liquid refreshment – but what a wonderful place of bound adventure and distilled knowledge. I am sure Julie will complain about the books I sent home and I do admit that I should probably have shown more restraint. She can thank David for dragging me out when he did or there would have been even more.

Anyway, while I was happily lost, David found this little first edition and thought you might like it. I, however, am absolutely sure that you will. I know that it still bugs David on occasion that I am the one paying for everything and that he has seemingly nothing to contribute – oh how wrong that man can be sometimes! – but this discontent resurfaced again lately. He tries to hide it but I can tell. It was the same last year. Of course I said the present was from both of us but, effectively, I am the one who paid for it. I hope that this year, things will be easier for him because he was the one who found it. I never would have, to be honest, I was so buried in all those other fascinating books – too many of which will soon be added to the library at home!

But quite apart from the book, we both send our love and well wishes, and we both hope that you will have a fantastic day and an even better year!

  
Take care! Love, your brother Hal  
and David

 

* * *

 

  
October 12, 1925

Dearest Emma,

  
you may be surprised to receive another letter so shortly after the last one but I have just read some worried lines from your mother and thought it best to respond immediately lest she thinks I neglect my responsibilities as head of the family. She wrote – and the uncharacteristically furious scrawling indicates she is really upset about it – that you have taken up flirting with her driver! I don't know what she expects me to do about it. I hope she doesn't think we will come rushing back from the other side of the globe because then she would be in for a disappointment. Besides, I'm probably not the best one to offer you advise on that front, given my deplorable relationship with David, a man who is not even from my own class!

But I know my duty and cannot run away from it. Dear Emma, please take care with whom you associate, don't run away with anyone unless you're really sure you love that person and are loved in return in equal measure. If you find someone like that, like I have done, know that I won't judge you, will always support you and will most definitely not disinherit you. Whoever they may be. And I will even protect you against your mother although that is quite a daunting prospect!

Oh, and maybe you should tell her that your interest in Jack has more to do with the car he drives than with the man himself. I know that Julie will probably not be happy about your fascination with  mechanics and engines but maybe she would be happier about that than about yet another mésalliance within the family.

 

Love, your brother Hal

 

* * *

  
  
July 8, 1928

Dearest Emma,

  
David and I have met the most fascinating woman, a lady detective! We were introduced to the Honourable Miss Phryne Fisher at a garden party of mutual acquaintances last Thursday in Melbourne, and we were both dazzled by her free spirit and charm. I think Julie might know her parents, the Baron and Baroness of Richmond? Miss Fisher invited us for dinner yesterday evening and she has told us the most entertaining and thrilling stories. She seems to be working closely with the local police and apprehends murderers and thieves on a frequent basis. I am sure you would have liked her immensely. Her observational skills surely seem a little too good for comfort. I think she suspects the true nature of David's and my relationship but it appears that she is not bothered by it but rather accepting. It is a relief, to say the least. She has also travelled extensively after the war and was able to give us plenty of recommendations and advise for places to visit next. Although her tastes may be a bit more adventurous than ours. Nevertheless, I'm glad that we had that common topic since I'm afraid that otherwise we might have been a bit boring for her since David and I are both, by nature, more quiet and certainly no match for Miss Fisher's exuberant energy. But all in all, it was a very agreeable evening and I, for one, am glad we made her acquaintance.  
  
How are your studies coming along? Has Julie given up her opposition by now? I hope the private tutor Campbell found for you meets with your approval. Apparently, it was not easy to locate someone willing to teach physics and electrical engineering to a young woman but I am glad he did find one in the end. I think it's absolutely foolish to cling to that old-fashioned idea that women's brains aren't capable of learning or understanding complex things. You and Miss Fisher are obvious examples to the contrary and I know many men who are helpless when it comes to figures and numbers. Don't let anyone ever tell you that you are less because you are a woman. I am convinced you are much smarter than your dumb old brother for example and I am very proud of you!

David agrees with me, by the way. When I told him of Campbell's problems in finding a tutor for you and about how many refused once they heard they were to teach a young woman, he just grunted and said “Idiots”, which, I guess, sums it up nicely.

  
Love, your brother Hal

 

* * *

 

  
April 3, 1930

Dear Miss Emmerich,

please do not be alarmed that I write to you today on your brother's behalf. Due to an accident with those chemicals he keeps playing around with, his doctor has insisted that Hal's eyes should rest, which means he has to wear a bandage that effectively renders him blind. But Doctor Hunter assures us that Hal's eyesight will return to near its full capacity after the treatment. Hal might have to wear prescriptive glasses but he jokes that it will simply complete his scholarly appearance and says he won't mind. In the meantime, he relies on me to help him and I am glad that I can be of service to him.

We do go out on short walks but we mainly remain in the rooms he has rented for us and talk, listen to music or I read to him. I am not a very accomplished reader but Hal says he likes listening to my voice. I have read all your previous letters to him, which he holds very dear, and he hopes that you will continue to write frequently. Hal is always very excited when he receives a new letter so I'll add my own hopes here, that you will keep up your correspondence. Hal will be able answer by dictating his reply to me. It has been quite a while since I've written anything that has been dictated to me but I will try my best to satisfy both of you.

I would also like to take the opportunity of offering my sincerest thanks for your updates on Rex. I am always grateful for news about him and am glad to hear he is doing well. I am in your debt for taking such good care of him.

  
Hal sends his love.

  
With kind regards,  
David Coluber

 

* * *

  
  
May 28, 1930

Dearest Emma,

  
thank you so much again for all your wonderful, long letters during my time of literal darkness. I can now say with satisfaction that it is finally over. Hopefully for ever. Doctor Hunter removed the bandages for good about two weeks ago and although my eyes are still sensitive and need rest, my eyesight has returned almost completely. Yesterday, Doctor Hunter was finally able to bring my new glasses around and although they have a habit of sliding down my nose – it seems it's unusually narrow? – they help a lot. I'm only afraid I have already acquired the habit of pushing them up my nose again about every two seconds. David frowns about it but doesn't say anything. I actually think he likes me with glasses. Who would have thought? But maybe that's just because I'm no longer dependent on him for almost everything. Even though I did get around fairly well by the end, I am glad to have the world back!  
  
Doctor Hunter says I shouldn't exert myself too much just yet and writing and reading are strenuous for my eyes, so I will end this letter here but with hopes for many, much longer letters in the future!

  
Love, you brother Hal (with restored sight!)

 

* * *

 

  
  
July 12, 1930

Dear Julie,

  
we are delighted to hear about your engagement to Mr. Fanning. Of course we wish you all the best and happiness in your new relationship. Second chances at love are rare but we are sure you will make the most of it.  
  
We are sorry that we won't be able to be present at the wedding but have enclosed a gift for you. It was created by an excellent local jeweller and, we think, will suit you nicely.

  
Best regards, Hal and David  
  


* * *

  
  
October 10, 1933

Dearest Emma,

 

I've always feared it and now it has come to pass. David has taken in a dozen dogs. They're pups that someone obviously did not want to keep, so they put them in a sack and threw them in a bin. That is where David found them and, naturally, he had to bring them home and is now raising all twelve of them with a bottle!  
  
I was sceptical how Meryl would react. You remember I wrote to you about the ginger cat that decided she now lives with us? She's still here and, to my utter astonishment, has actually adopted the pups. She has become fiercely protective of “the rat pack” – that is what I call them on account of them being hardly bigger than rats – and smothers them with a rough sort of motherly love. Between her and David, I think the little ones stand a good chance. I can't say that I am too happy about the sudden increase of animal inhabitants in our rooms but seeing David so happy, albeit a bit tired due to sleep sacrificed to feeding duties, is worth it, I guess. You should see him sitting on the floor, twelve furry bodies crawling happily all over him, with Meryl keeping a watchful eye on the lot of them. If I can manage it, I will enclose a photograph of them in the next letter.  
  
We are still thinking of names for the dogs, so any suggestions would be very welcome.  
  
There is not much else to tell, the dogs tie us to the house so that any sightseeing is suspended for the moment. I occasionally walk out alone but even though I know David is not as interested in architecture and art as I am, it is still not the same without him. He has also become rather protective and doesn't like it when I'm out alone and he doesn't know where I am. I think he is afraid someone might rob me or stab me to death in an alleyway. It's true, he is much more capable of standing his ground in a fight but I do hope the war hasn't left me completely incapable of defending myself! And given that I am the younger of the two of us, I feel like it should be me, rather, who should remind him to be cautious. Still, I take his worry as a sign of affection and don't complain. Rather, I am glad there is someone in my life who worries about me. Family excluded of course, since it is their job to worry after all! (But please don't do too much of that)  
  
Speaking of which, I hope you are doing well? London is a big place and although I have every faith in you, I can only implore you again to be careful. Is it contradictory if I add, that I also hope you will enjoy yourself and have a ton of fun?  
  
Write soon about all your adventures (but leave out the worst)!

  
Love, your brother Hal  
  


* * *

  
  
November 20, 1934

Dearest Emma,

 

I hope all is well with you. The news we receive of the political situation in Europe is rather troubling. Herr Hitler's changes in Germany have us both worried. David thinks that another war might be inevitable, while I still hope for the best. Maybe that is naive. In any case, we wonder if our time gallivanting around the globe shouldn't come to an end. If war does break out, we'd rather be at home than stranded elsewhere. The logistics of travelling with a dozen dogs as well as a cat are daunting, to say the least, but we both feel our thoughts turning home more and more forcefully. I am not sure there is much we could actually do at home, David's health is getting worse and my eyesight at least prohibits me from active duty. I know I can confess it to you without you thinking any worse of me, but I am almost glad. I am not sure I could survive another war at the front, even if no enemy ever hit me.  
  
The dreams are getting worse again, for both of us.  
  
Please take care of yourself, Emma!

  
Love, your brother Hal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I cheated by mostly not including exactly _where_ they are in the world but as it turns out, I'm shitty at historic research. You can kinda tell that I tried to in the beginning (was briefly confused by the flood in Calais because I first thought it was the French one) and then just gave up. I'm sorry, I hope you'll still like it, I just didn't want to sit on this for even longer...


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here!! At last!! This chapter really was a battle...

March 25, 1935

Dearest Emma,

it still feels strange to be back but I am glad we had at least two weeks together before your training started. I admit I still find it hard to picture you as a nurse. Not because I think you cannot manage it but because I always envisioned a different future for you. I guess all of Europe hopes for a different future than that which everybody fears and prepares for. I tried to tell you and to show you during our time together but let me repeat it here just once more: I am so proud of you. You have grown not only into a beautiful woman, but, what is more important, into an intelligent and competent one. As well as a compassionate one. That much is clear from your decision to become a nurse in the first place.

I had hoped that letter writing had come to an end with David's and my return home but I guess we will just have to continue. I hope you can find a spare minute every now and then in your schedule – it sounds quite gruelling! – to respond. We will be grateful for any news you can send.

Please take care!

Love, your brother Hal

 

\--

December 12, 1935

Dearest Emma,

I am so glad that you will be allowed to return home for the holidays! I can't even recall the last Christmas we spent together; needless to say it has been too long. However, I imagine Julie won't be too happy about your decision to stay with us rather then celebrating with your mother and her husband. I hope she does not give you too much trouble. At least she will have you for New Year's Eve.

But David and I are both looking forward to your visit very much. As, I am sure, do the dogs and Meryl. They are always greateful for another pair of hands to pet them. Maybe the animals are happiest that we are home and settled now. The dogs love the open space and the long walks through the forest. Meryl seems quite content to prowl around and scare all the birds and mice in the vicinity. As for David and I … I think David still has some trouble thinking of the manor as “home”. Before we left England, his home had been the groundkeeper's cottage after all. All that makes it hard to forget our different upbringings and circumstances. That particular shadow has always been present but it was easier to ignore during our travels, when every new acquaintance would believe us to be equals. I wish I could take that shadow and doubt from him.

Is it too forward of me to ask whether you could reassure him during your visit that the manor is indeed his home as much as ours? You were kind enough to repeatedly point out that you think of David as family, or I would not impose.

Love, your brother Hal

 

–-

July 30, 1937

Dear Julie,

please accept our deepest condolences for your loss. I am sure it was a great comfort to your husband to have you by his side during his last days.

I hope I need hardly say that you are welcome to return to the manor if that is your wish. Although I would understand if you wanted to stay closer to Emma.

If there is anything you need, please don't hesitate to ask.

Kind regards, Hal

 

–-

December 1, 1938

Dearest Emma,

I am sure you've heard (or heard of) Viscount Samuel's appeal on the radio for British families to open their homes for children refugees from Germany and Austria.

The reports from the Kristallnacht last month left us all shocked here and after only a brief discussion, there was no doubt that we would open the manor for as many refugees as we can possibly take. The house has plenty of unused rooms that have stood empty for years so space is less of a problem than the general manageability of housing so many unaccompanied children. There is much to organise and not a lot of time to do it in, which is why I only now found a spare moment to inform you of our decision.

The whole household is in a flurry, as you can imagine. I am afraid, everything will be rather improvised at first but I hope we can make our guests as comfortable as possible. I have no illusions that it will be quite difficult. The younger ones won't understand why they have to leave their parents behind, and the older ones – who grasp the situation well enough – will no doubt be worried sick about their families. And I suppose none of them speaks English.

Perhaps you can write back some suggestions of what we need to consider and should prepare for from a medical standpoint. Neither David nor I have much experience with children.

To be completely honest with you, I am terrified. The trenches never felt as daunting.

But we will manage as best we can.

Please take care.

Love, your brother Hal

 

–-

December 1, 1938

Dear Julie,

should you have no other obligations and commitments in London, would you consider returning to the manor? We will take in children refugees, as is our duty as British citizens, Christians, and decent human beings in general. However, I am afraid we are rather out of our depths when it comes to children. We could therefore need your help very much.

I know your great organisatorial skill would be an immense support in this time, besides which I am sure you know much more about what children actually need than we do.

If you cannot leave London – and I realise it is no small request to leave Emma alone in the metropolis, no less during these times – could you please refer us to someone who would be willing and capable to help? It would be greatly appreciated.

I hope you are well.

Kind regards, Hal

 

–-

December 15, 1938

Dearest Emma,

I wish I could say our guests are settling in well but that would be a euphemism too great even for an Englishman. This past week and a half have been even more difficult than I imagined at first. The nurse we have employed to watch over the refugees was only able to arrive the day after the children did, wich meant there was a lot of confusion. Fortunately, Ms Silverburgh is a very competent woman and has brought the house if not quite to order then at least to less chaos since her arrival.

Your mother proves a great help too. I by no means ignored your reservations about asking her for help, and instead took them very seriously. We have spoken at length on the phone before she came here and while I made no effort to hide how much we need her help, I also did not hesitate to make clear that her stay would hinge on certain conditions. But just as we have changed, so has Julie. She is very sorry for what happened during our childhood. In a way, I even pity her. My father certainly wasn't the kindest of husbands. Still, it does not excuse her behaviour but I do not suppose something like that will ever happen again. My trust in her is not complete – lest you think that – but enough to gratefully accept her help in these difficult times.

Thank you again for your kind suggestions in regards to medical precautions, we have striven to incorporate all of them and most of them have already proven their merit.

I was a bit afraid how the rat pack would react to the children – and vice versa – but they have been on their best behaviour ever since our guests arrived. David has trained them well. I rather think the dogs will show themselves to be an advantage in this chaos rather than another element of concern. They are already making friends with the traumatised children; the lack of a common language for once being no hindrance.

Life has become rather busy at the manor and I am afraid I have to hurry away to deal with new problems that have arisen, so I'll just end with my most heartfelt wishes for your well-being.

Love, your brother Hal

 

\--

September 4, 1939

Dearest Emma,

so we are at war. I suppose I knew it would happen, just as everybody else knew but I never wanted to believe it. We fought a war to end all wars and here were are again.

The last war started with a misplaced optimism but I suppose it was better than this grim desperation and determination. We didn't think we could loose the last war but were almost proven wrong. Now we cannot lose it.

I'm sick with worry. About everything. All the time. I don't know what I would do without David and without the responsibility for the children. There is no alternative but to be strong for them.

Just promise you will be careful, Emma!

Love, always, your brother Hal

 

–-

September 4, 1940

Dearest Emma,

I don't think I have ever felt so helpless in my life. I wish you had agreed to return here. I wish I could travel to London and bring you home, by force if necessary, until the war is won and British citizens can sleep in peace at night again, without fear of death raining from the heavens. I wish this bloody war had never been and if I could strangle Hitler right now I would not hesitate. I don't think I have ever hated a single human being that much. Nor have I ever been more worried.

I admire you and applaud you for your bravery and commitment and yet I wish you were a coward and would come running home.

I know you will probably have no time to reply, that no news from you is good news because surely we would be informed if anything happened to you.

I pray every night and every morning and every hour in-between that God will keep you safe. We all pray.

Please take care.

Love, always, your brother Hal

 

\--

June 02, 1941

Dearest Emma,

reports suggest that the Germans have finally given up on their bombing campaign. Thank God and thank the brave fighters of the Royal Air Force!

And thank you for every letter you managed to write and send our way. No matter how short, we treasure every word from you. She doesn't talk much about it but I know Julie is just as worried about you as David and I are. Every new letter from you is greeted with tears of joy from her. She has her flaws – who better to attest to that than I? – but not loving her daughter is thankfully not among them. If you do get some leave from work, we would be overjoyed to have you here. Your room is untouched and ready for whenever you manage to come home.

We miss you all very much.

I suppose I'm grateful that the children keep us all busy or we would run up the walls in madness! I miss the quiet times, of course, and I suppose David does so even more than I do, but I shudder to think how much more the demons of worry could plague us with nothing to occupy our hands and minds.

Take care!

Love, your brother Hal

 

\--

July 09, 1941

Dearest Emma,

is it just my imagination or have you mentioned a certain Wing-Commander* Benedict Miller rather often in your latest correspondence? Forgive my prying, but I suppose it is a brother's privilege to get nosy. Or perhaps even his duty? I assure you, however, that it is only done out of love and the hope to see you happy.

In any case, he seems to be a good sort of man if he accepts your corrections on his knowledge of mechanical engineering. I'm afraid not many men would suffer that so graciously. He also seems to be a very brave man, if even half of the stories you have told about him are true! I cannot imagine any man would bear the loss of half of his limbs easily but I am glad he has you to cheer him up.

Have I remarked lately how brave I think you are? I still have nightmares of the wounds of war I witnessed, the pitiable cries of the dying, brave men reduced to pleading and tears … I am not sure I could have done what you do and so you have my greatest respect and admiration.

Take care!

Love, your brother Hal

 

–-

September 12, 1941

Dearest Emma,

of course we would be delighted to meet Wing-Commander Miller! Lang can prepare a room on ground level for him, since you write that climbing stairs is still a challenge with the prosthetic limb. I see absolutely no problem there.

You know we are all dying of curiosity about him but I promise we will try to be subtle about it and not plague him with our inquiries. I hope he does not seek much entertainment here as our habits are quiet and we are bound to the house most of the time because of the children. But I guess with you by his side, he will hardly notice us old men. I just hope he will not be too bothered by the children. They are a good bunch, on the whole, but any guest is exciting for them. However, I am sure Ms Silverburgh and your mother will manage to keep them away and in line for your visit, so they won't trouble the Commander too much.

I hope he knows how lucky he is to have you. Oh, and if he breaks your heart? I'll make sure he'll loose the other leg and arm too.

Love, always, your brother Hal

 

–-

August 30, 1944

Dearest Emma,

it really does look like we might win this war after all, doesn't it? The succesful liberation of Paris is surely a good sign. We held a small celebration at the manor, as well as possible with our rations. We may have to adhere to a stricter diet for a few weeks, but it was well worth it, I think. The children, in any case, loved it.

We were all the more grateful for a reason to celebrate because Meryl passed away last week. The rat pack surely seem to miss her, as do David and I, but I think she had a good life with us, with plenty of mice to catch and warm hands to pet her. David buried her near the old cottage, and fashioned a beautiful wooden cross for her. His skill has truly improved since that first set of chess pieces he carved for us in the trenches!

Love, your brother Hal

 

\--

May 09,1945

Dearest Emma,

I am sure the metropolis is going crazy right now but truly, what better reason could there be than this victory over Germany?! It is hard to believe that this war should finally be over, after so many lives lost and so many homes destroyed. I am sure that this war has changed us all and that the aftermath will prove challenging indeed. But these are thoughts for the weeks and months and years to come.

For now, let us celebrate and be happy!

Love, always, your brother Hal

 

\--

May 26, 1945

Dearest Emma,

we are all absolutely delighted about your engagement at the manor! It seems quite a lot of young people have married or gotten engaged this month but with a future finally at hand again, who could blame them? In any case, I cannot imagine either you or the Commander making any hasty decisions and your acquaintance and relationship has been so long-standing nobody could accuse you of being impulsive or rash.

I think Julie would have wished for a son-in-law who intimidated her less but she agrees that he seems to make you happy and that that is of course the most important thing in a marriage.

I am also absolutely sure that you will be a wonderful step-mother for Catherine and that you will no doubt be an equally wonderful role model for her! She and her father are both very lucky indeed.

In any case, David and I both wish you the very best of luck and happiness. You are fortunate to have found someone to share your life and fortunate that you can announce your mutual love to the world. Do not underestimate those blessings.

Love, always, your brother Hal

P.S.: We would be very happy if you would consider holding the ceremony here but would of course understand if you preferred to get married in London. Whatever you decide and whomever you want to have with you on that joyful day, the most important thing is that you are happy!

 

\--

February 12, 1946

Dearest Emma,

David and I have an idea that we would like to run by you. We have spoken at length and have agreed that we would like to transform the manor into a regular orphanage so that we can continue to help children who have lost their home and their family. However, this is just an idea at the moment and we haven't spoken about it to anyone yet because nothing will be done without your consent of course. The manor is your home too and you will inherit it after my death so nothing will be done with it that you don't approve of. And should you agree, nothing will be done without your input. You would be involved in all the stages of planning, too.

What do you say, Emma? We eagerly await your reply.

Love, your brother Hal

 

–-

March 16, 1946

Dearest Emma,

we have indeed come up with a name for the orphanage but any other ideas will be more than welcome. To be honest, it started out as no more than a joke between us, then became a working title but now we cannot come up with anything better. So, for the moment at least, David and I are stuck with the “Sunny Home for Orphaned Children”. However, we are only too aware of the irony of calling any home in England “sunny”, when more often then not the skies are overcast.

Please rescue us with a better sugestion!

Love, your brother Hal

 

–-

August 03, 1956

Dearest Emma,

I cannot express my gratitude enough. But let me attempt it anway: Thank you so very much for agreeing to come home. I know it must be difficult for you to uptroot your life in London, so I am acutely aware of the sacrifices you make in order to be with us. But knowing that David will not only be looked after by someone competent but also by someone who loves him, is a relief that I cannot put into words. You know he means the world to me.

David protested and said it was not necessary for you to abandon London and come home but I know he is secretly grateful for it. I think he is worried about me and so welcomes the knowledge that you will be here to support me as much as to support him. Truth be told, we are both very glad not to be alone in this.

The days after the diagnosis were the worst in many ways but I know harder days will come. However, I am determined to make the best of _all_ the days still left to us.

I hope you and Benedict will be alright here. You haven't lived in the manor for so long and so much has changed here. I am afraid it will be much harder to adapt to it now than during your short visits these last few years, because they were just visits. If there is anything we can do to make you more comfortable, don't hesitate to ask. I also hope you will find working as head nurse for the orphanage fulfilling enough, just as I hope Benedict won't get bored managing the orphanage. I know he is a very capable man so I confess I am a little afraid he will not find his new job challenging enough. But I have to trust that you've both thought this through and made no hasty decisions. You are both more than old enough to know what you want to do after all and I have long lost any right to swaying your decisions.

Catherine is of course also always welcome, whenever she wants to visit, and you and Benedict can of course escape to London any time, whenever the countryside becomes too stiflingly dull for your tastes.

Really, Emma, I cannot express how grateful I am or say thank you enough. But there is enough time to attempt it once you are here. David and I both await your arrival eagerly.

Love, always, your brother Hal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this time I couldn't get away with superficial research so had to dig deeper (got a bit lost there for a while) but I hope it pays off. There's of course a million more things Hal could have commented on during the war (e.g. I wanted to include something about the liberation of Bergen Belsen and the pictures going around the world but it seemed too depressing and didn't quite fit in where it would have had to be so I left it out). But I think the personal moments are more interesting so...uh...anway, I really hope this chapter works because, to be honest, I had to finish this now or it would never have been finished at all!
> 
> * Apparently, just Commander would have meant that Miller was in the Navy and somehow that didn't seem fitting, so Wing-Commander and Air Force it is. Also, please don't kill me for the most random weird AU ship in the history of ever!!! It just ... happened?


	5. Chapter 5

The air smells of frost and winter. Sheets of fog rise from the lawn, tiny drops of water kissing the grass blades goodbye for the day. Slowly, the world settles in for a well-deserved rest. It seems fitting to Hal. The grounds wrapped in stillness and peace remind him of David.

David used to love these kind of days, when every breath is raw and wrought with new beginnings. When you feel utterly and truly alive.

Until you aren't.

 

There are no tears. Not yet and not again. Not now.

David hated his tears, hated it to see Hal suffer when he couldn't do anything to help. Today is not about hate. Today is all about love. Their love.

Hal feels strangely calm. As if suspended in time. Maybe because the waiting is finally over and the new world hasn't begun yet. Maybe because there had been a faint smile on David's lips and his hand resting in Hal's at the very end. Maybe because it could have gone so many other ways.

They had been lucky.

Hal had been lucky. Lucky to have had someone in his life that saying goodbye to pained so much.

It hurts. But the aching is dulled for the moment, suspended until reality will truly catch up with him; until he is alone.

Alone.

It is an old idea, estranged by decades spent in company.

 

Hal hardly feels Emma's hand in his own as they walk towards the little chapel. Julie's crisp steps and Benedict's shuffling behind him are untethered to any actual bodies in Hal's mind.

He only hears the gravel crunch under his soles, a hint of ice and dry leaves in the modulation of the sound. He only sees the endless clear blue of the sky, the forest in the distance, green interspersed with red and gold and brown. A last outburst of colour before the white of winter will wash it all away, bury it until it is ready to awake afresh in spring.

David will not wake again.

When Nature returns from her slumber, Hal will greet her alone, only memories walking by his side.

Hal's mind can't quite grasp the image, it flickers and blurrs at the edges like a damaged film strip.

He'd known it would happen. He'd known for quite a while and yet when it did, he found it was not the end. The world didn't stop. The clocks kept ticking. The routine of life went on.

Just without David.

Nobody but this very small circle of people took notice that David Coluber had left this mortal coil behind.

As if he had still been a soldier, sneaking out of Hal's life the same way he had entered it. Unseen until he was suddenly there, immovable: a constant within a world of swirling chaos.

Hal had been afraid that the chaos would return once David was no longer there to protect him but instead he finds that Chaos has grown as old as he has himself. Her movements are sluggish, her vibrant colours faded. She invokes no longer any terror inside of him.

Only the longing for sleep. Only the longing for rest.

 

The pastor's words are as meaningless as the quiet murmuring of the brook just a short walk from David's old cottage. The man hasn't known David Coluber. But maybe nobody ever truly has.

Hal doesn't know why David stayed all those years. Or rather, he does know because David has never given him any reason to doubt his love for him. But Hal has never truly understood it.

Hal has never truly thought he deserved David's love.

And yet he had taken it all, given it back with a fierce gratitude and devotion until it had simply been the way they belonged together. The only way they knew how to exist.

He will have to find a new way.

 

Emma's hand never leaves his during the brief ceremony. He doesn't look at her but he knows she is crying. She loved David as a brother. As family. Truly and completely.

And Hal feels grateful. A gratitude that sits like glass shards in his throat.

That they had all found it each other was a miracle, that they had forgiven and accepted and loved each other was an even greater one.

And Hal realises, standing next to David's grave, cold air in his lungs and Emma's hand in his, that he has been blessed.

Amidst terror and death on a battlefield, he found the eternal bloom of love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hands out heart band aids and tissues*


	6. Chapter 6

Dear David,

I have been staring at these two words for nearly half an hour now. I can practically hear you telling me how stupid it is to write letters to a dead man. But it's good. I miss your voice.

When you died, I thought I could not bear it. To be separated after such a long time, to know that I will never see you again ... I thought it would break me. The wars should have taught me better. There is a great deal more people can bear than we have ever imagined.

It doesn't make it easier though.

I've had the old gamekeeper cottage rebuilt and have left the manor to the orphanage. I think the children are better off without my derelict from shuffling through the hallways. Theirs should be a happy childhood, unburdened by long faces. It's what we always wanted for them after all.

Besides, I've always preferred the quiet. When I think back over the years, there have been so many silences between us, yet they never felt empty. I never felt alone with you.

I'm starting to remember now, though, what it means to be alone. I've lived with it before and I can do so again, even if I wish I didn't have to. But of course I'm not truly alone. Emma makes sure that I don't simply disappear into the forest completely and I cherish her visits, whether she comes alone or is accompanied by Benedict, and sometimes Catherine too. Of course I am overjoyed for them. But seeing them, the happy family they are, also pains me because it reminds me of what I have lost. Whom I have lost.

Still, I get by. The days pass, the weeks, months, years. Season after season. I haven't forgotten yet, how to appreciate nature. Its smell reminds me of you. I keep walking the same paths we already took so many years ago and can almost feel you by my side. How afraid I was, back then! I was scared that you might find out my secret, that you might reject me. All unfounded of course, but how could we know? I am just grateful, every day, that we figured it out eventually.

We have seen much evil, both of us, and I can only thank the Lord that he has brought us together so we might find peace in each other. So that we can find love and forgiveness and acceptance.

I try to do as much good as I can in the days still left to me, they cannot and should not go wasted. Life is a gift, that much I've learned. And yet I do look forward to the moment when we are reunited in the next life. That this will come to pass, I firmly believe. Even death will not free you from me forever! You know me, I am far too stubborn to just let you off that easily.

You would probably roll your eyes right about now but, I think, you would also smile and that is enough for me; it has always been enough for me.

David, you saved my life because you made it worth living. I owe it to you, to continue to live it to the best of my abilities. I promise I will try. Until we see each other again.

Love, always, Hal

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the person most astonished I actually finished this is myself. Tremendously huge THANK YOUS go to thelonebamf, mightyscrub, and of course kawaiibooker who prompted this way back, for all their support and encouragement, their enthusiasm and just generally being awesome writing buddies. I couldn't have done this without you, guys. Now let's all go and cry together...


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